


15 Ways to Earn Back Trust

by Orion Arthur Rietveld (ameowicafjones)



Series: 15 Ways [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: :))))))), Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anyway this was written before I posted the first one on ao3, Arranged Marriage, Arson, Damn, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, FACE Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Filicide, Gen, I mean that's? Probably? Everything?, Mariticide, More than once woohoo, Parent-Child Relationship, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Slavery, This one's a little bit intense sorry, We got child murder we got s l a v e r y, Yep you read that right we've got some good old spousal murder here, but like, but oops it's been a year since I posted the last one, end of series, i'm the worst, plot holes like nobody's business, these tags are all over the place, yep that's right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 15:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameowicafjones/pseuds/Orion%20Arthur%20Rietveld
Summary: It's been ninety-six years since Madeleine last saw Francis, and she's almost come to terms with his absence.But when he returns on the night she declares her independence, she finally learns the truth of why he left her with Arthur, and they begin to make amends. As it turns out, the timing couldn't be better, as Madeleine is just about to enter an arranged marriage, and things quickly go downhill from there.Years pass, and the damaged relationship between a regretful father and a broken daughter grows stronger than it ever was before.





	15 Ways to Earn Back Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so, so sorry that this took so long holy fuck
> 
> I wasn't even writing it. It just took me over a year to post this thing.
> 
> I'm the worst sorry.

_One._

It was a celebration. A ball to revel in freedom. The very first in the independent Dominion of Canada.

Madeleine Williams wasn’t entirely sure what to do with herself. This moment meant plenty to every person in this room, but to none as much as it meant to her. She had struggled for years, trying to make a life for herself beyond being traded from one big-shot European to the next. Now, finally, she was a nation. A real nation. No longer relying on “caretakers” who only _cared_ about the status upgrade she gave them.

“May I have this dance, Mademoiselle?”

The voice startled her, at first because she hadn’t been aware there was anyone behind her, and then because of the memories it brought up. It had been nearly a century since she had last heard him speak.

She spun around, finding herself face-to-face with the last person she had expected to see here.

“Papa,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.

He smiled down at her, but there was something more to his expression. Pain, she realised. The same kind that she was feeling. Like so much had changed, so much was different, so much time had passed, and yet she was still looking at the only person she’d wanted to see for the past ninety-six years.

“You’ve grown so much,” Francis said quietly, placing a hand on her cheek. “My Madeleine… I’ve missed you. I…” He sighed and wiped his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

_Two._

“Can we… can we go talk somewhere more… more private, please?” she asked.

He nodded.

Madeleine led the way out of the ballroom and into the courtyard. They could still hear the music and laughter of the party, but they were alone.

“You leave for almost a century,” Madeleine began, her voice strained, “ninety-six years, and then you just… just show up _hours_ after I declare independence? As soon as I don’t need you anymore… here you are.”

“I never wanted to leave you with Arthur,” he said, placing his hands on her arms. “I didn’t have a choice. The Seven Years’ War, the Treaty of Paris…”

It took her a moment to process what he was saying. “It… it was Arthur…?” she concluded. “Arthur made you give me to him. You didn’t have a say.”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

Madeleine couldn’t count the number of times Arthur had apologised for seemingly no reason. Now she understood.

_Three._

Madeleine wrapped her arms around her father, burying her face in his chest.

He smiled gently and hugged her back, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “You’ve become such a beautiful young woman,” he said quietly. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Papa, can I request a small favour?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Anything, Madeleine,” he replied. “I would do anything for you.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, pulling away from the hug. “I’m to be married in a week,” she said quietly. “The way things are planned now, Arthur will be walking me down the aisle, but I would much prefer if you were the one who did so.”

Francis blinked. “You’re getting married?”

She nodded. “It’s… it’s not what I would’ve hoped my wedding day would be like. I don’t love him. But he offered a huge sum of money for the national bank in return for my hand in marriage, and I couldn’t refuse. From today forth, my top priority is my people, not myself.”

He gave her a look of concern. “Madeleine, you don’t have to do this. I know that you want what’s best for your people, but that doesn’t mean you have to ruin your own life. The things that a marriage entails, arranged or not… no one is expecting you to put yourself into a situation like that. You’re still so young, and…” he sighed. “You’re very brave, Madeleine. But I urge you to consider declining this offer. If it were an arranged marriage under different circumstances, perhaps you wouldn’t have to worry so much, but clearly this man wants to be married to you, and unfortunately, the husband has all the power in the relationship… The situation isn’t in your favour.”

She shook her head. “I know what I stand for. My comfort isn’t important.”

“It’s important to me,” he said.

“Well,” she replied, “it’s a good thing you aren’t the one making the decision, isn’t it?”

He stood silent for a moment before nodding. “Fine. I’ll walk you down the aisle.”

“Thank you.”

_Four._

A week later, Madeleine stood beside her father, dressed in a beautiful white dress. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Francis asked her, taking note of how nervous she seemed.

She nodded. “I’m not changing my mind.”

They began to walk.

Everything went smoothly, though Madeleine seemed nervous throughout the event. Later that night, however, she knocked on Francis’ door, looking upset.

Upon seeing her, he immediately brought his daughter inside. “What’s wrong, my darling? You seem unhappy?”

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” she said. “I thought I could handle it, but…” She closed her eyes. “I can’t do it again. I just… It hurt so badly, and I felt so helpless, and I just wanted to be sick. I still want to be sick. It was terrible…”

His expression changed to one of understanding. “This is what I was afraid of.” He hugged her. “I’m sorry. Do you want to stay here for the night?”

She nodded. “Yes, please.”

_Five._

The next morning, she returned to her own home to find an angry husband. She tried to explain to him that she had only been with her father, because she had been uncomfortable after the previous night’s events, but he wouldn’t listen to her, and she suffered a beating for it. When Francis stopped by to check on her, he found her in a corner, bruised and crying, trying to push away the memories of her life as a slave in Spain.

He carefully took her in his arms and comforted her, providing her with the safety of his protection until she had recovered.

_Six._

Francis got into the habit of checking on Madeleine every day. Each time, he found her in a similar situation, until about two weeks after the wedding.

When he knocked on the door this time, it was her husband who answered.

“I’m here to see Madeleine,” Francis said, glaring at the younger man.

“Madeleine is… busy,” replied the girl’s husband.

“Let me rephrase that,” Francis growled. “You _will_ let me see my daughter _now_ , or I’ll kill you right where you stand. You decide.”

The man stepped out of the way.

“That’s what I thought.” 

_Seven._

Francis found Madeleine on the floor in the next room, her dress stained with blood, a knife protruding from her chest.

His breath caught and he sank to his knees beside her, pulling her shaking body into his lap. “Madeleine,” he said softly, “my dear, sweet Madeleine…”

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’m scared, Papa,” she said. “It hurts…” She was weak. Dying.

“Shh. I know. It’s okay. I’m here now. I’m here.” He kissed her forehead. “It’s okay. Go to sleep, my daughter.”

“P-promise you’ll stay with me?” she asked shakily.

“Always,” he answered. “I promise.”

And with that, she let death overcome her.

_Eight._

When Madeleine awoke, she was on her father’s bed. Francis sat on the edge, running his thumb over her cheek.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“Don’t worry, my child,” he said upon seeing her awake. “You’re safe. Just rest. Let yourself recover.”

She nodded, smiling weakly despite the pain, because he’d kept his promise. He’d stayed.

_Nine._

Another month of pain had passed when Madeleine knocked on Francis’ door once more.

“What is it this time?” he asked when he opened the door to find her standing there, her face pale.

“I… I’ve just spoken with a doctor. I thought I was sick, but… he said that I’m carrying a child.”

“Oh… oh, Madeleine…” he drew her into his arms. “I’m so sorry things are turning out like this.”

“So am I,” she replied.

_Ten._

Several months later, Francis held Madeleine’s hand in place of her husband, who was off drinking, apparently not interested in meeting his own child.

It took hours for Madeleine to finally give birth to her son, and by the time it was finally over, she barely had the strength to hold the boy, which made it incredibly hard for her to attempt to nurse him.

Francis helped her hold him while he nursed, and then took the boy from her after he had fallen asleep.

“Rest now,” he told her. “You’ll need the strength. You know you will.”

_Eleven._

She had become a slave again. There was no other way to put it. Her husband kept her tied up in their bedroom. The only time she was freed was to feed their child, to make meals, or to clean the house. Even then, she had to do so under his supervision, with rules set in place for his pleasure. That was her main job. His pleasure.

She rarely got to eat, or sleep, or wash. Sometimes, her husband would get bored and would go more hard on her than usual, just to entertain himself.

And then Francis found out about it. He wasn’t going to let his daughter become a toy for this man, and he was going to make that known. He didn’t often resort to violence, but he didn’t take anyone hurting his daughter lightly.

The first chance he got, he threw her husband into the nearest wall and began to give him a taste of his own medicine, beating him bloody before letting him fall to the floor.

“You keep hurting my daughter,” he sneered, “and I won’t let you off so easy next time.”

_Twelve._

Francis carried Madeleine to his home, with her son in her arms. Once she was finally safe, she immediately burst into tears, falling to her knees because it hurt to stand. Everything hurt. She had been too strong for too long, and now that she didn’t have to be, all she could do was sit, broken, unable to carry her own weight in the world anymore. She should have listened to Francis. He had tried to warn her not to marry this man, but she’d been too concerned for her people. It had never occurred to her that she would end up too weak to help anyone, including herself, because of that decision.

Francis sighed and knelt beside his daughter, pulling her close to himself. He let her cry on his shoulder until her tears ran dry, and then he helped her to her feet, supporting her as they walked to his bedroom, where she curled up on the bed. He brought her food and water, which remained mostly untouched, then held her as she fell asleep, watching after her child for her.

_Thirteen._

Years passed and cycles repeated. Madeleine had two more sons and a daughter. The latter died at the hands of her own father, as her mother was forced to watch in horror, and the former of which were taught to be just as cruel to their mother as their father was.

It was when Madeleine found herself pregnant with her fifth child that she finally decided she had had enough. She formulated a plan.

She went to Francis and asked to keep some of her things at his house, for safekeeping. Once he had agreed, she packed everything she needed to survive and everything she couldn’t bear to part with into a few spare chests and moved them into a spare room at her father’s home.

_Fourteen._

Perhaps it was a stupid plan. But it would look like an accident, and it would deal with the child she was carrying as well.

She was able to get her husband and all her children into a single room. A room with only one door, no windows, and plenty of flammable objects. She had prepared the room, just before she left it, “accidentally” dropping and breaking several bottles of strong alcohol before apologising and leaving to “get something to clean up the mess”. That something was a match hidden in her sleeve, which she lit and held under the door until the wood lit and flames started to spread quickly. She went downstairs and waited in the entry hall for her turn.

Once things had picked up, the fire spread throughout the top floor, and caused the roof to cave in, crushing Madeleine, and causing flames to lick at her skin. She cried out in agony, not even sure what hurt, because the pain was so intense.

And then she was drenched in water, the flames dying out. Hands pulled her out from under the ruins of her home. A plank, which had skewered her shoulder, was removed. The hands lifted her and carried her somewhere. She wasn’t sure where. Then she was lying down. “Go to sleep, my daughter,” said Francis, just like he had before.

She knew she was safe now. “Promise you’ll stay with me?” She was barely able to get the words out.

“Always.”

_Fifteen._

Madeleine struggled to forgive herself. It was assumed an accident. That she had been lucky to make it out alive. She blamed herself.

Francis never blamed her.

The two left to live together in the countryside for a while, where Madeleine was able to recover from the pain her marriage had caused her, with the help of her father. She never forgave herself for starting the fire.

Francis forgave her.

Eventually, they parted ways, in a manner of speaking, to attend to the needs of their people. But never again did they lose touch, with the exception of Madeleine’s time being held as a prisoner of war, when the only thing either of them wanted was to be together again. Never again did Francis let her think he didn’t love her. Never again did Madeleine ignore her father’s judgement when it came to big, potentially life-changing situations.

Time passed. Wars were fought. Changes made.

Never were they on opposing sides.

Madeleine grew up to be a powerful nation, just like her father.

Francis watched her grow, proud to have her as a daughter.

And all the other nations watched their relationship with envy, wishing they too could have something as meaningful as that between Francis Bonnefoy and his daughter-by-choice, Madeleine Williams.


End file.
